


Christmas Baby

by samflower



Series: 100 Day Prompt Challenge [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Baby, Baby Winchester - Freeform, Baby Winchesters (Supernatural), Birth, Birth in the Impala, Dean Winchester - Freeform, F/M, Ficlet, Fluff, Impala, Mentioned Sam Winchester, Pregnancy, Pregnant Reader, Reader Insert, Supernatural - Freeform, snowstorm, you - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 05:53:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17074616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samflower/pseuds/samflower
Summary: Dean and a very pregnant reader get stuck in a snowstorm after a shopping trip the night before Christmas. They end up with the greatest present of all, even if the timing is terrible.





	Christmas Baby

The snow outside hadn’t let up for hours. You had been stuck in the abandoned parking lot of your nearest grocery store for two hours now and it seemed like you may be stuck there all night. Dean, of course, had tried to get the car to move multiple times and had even tried to move the snow out from under the back tires, but the impala wouldn’t budge. Besides that, the roads were undrivable and covered in a thick layer of snow. The snow covered the top of the impala in a sheen of ice at first and then a thick layer of dense and watery snow followed. Dean had struggled to keep the car warm enough for you, but fell short. You were notoriously cold, anyway, and the swell of life in your womb made you that much colder. Your body had donated all of your heat to your little one and you were currently ungrateful for its thoughtfulness.

Dean had been terrible with a cell phone and had left his at the bunker and you had decided that yours needed to stay and be charged for awhile. It was a decision that you thought was stupid in your present state and you chidded yourself for not having more sense. Of course, hindsight was always 20/20 and you reminded yourself of this, deciding not to beat yourself up over it.

You shivered and curled up as tight as you could in the back seat. You had wanted to get home so you could start on the preparations for the next day’s dinner. It was going to be a big one. The Winchester brothers had yet to celebrate a proper Christmas in their 30-odd years and the bunker was the perfect place to bunk down and get one done. Dean, who you had never expected to be one for the Christmas spirit, had been excited. He wanted to experience a real Christmas before he became a daddy so he could enjoy spoiling his little one the next year. He wanted to do right by your baby and you knew he’d make a great father.

Dean sighed heavily from the front seat and pushed the door of the impala open, allowing a stiff cold breeze to blow in the open door, “I’m coming back there,” he mumbled and climbed out. You sat up a bit to make room for him. As you moved your hips over, you felt an uncomfortable ‘pop’ sensation and a flow of water ran from your core to your ankles. You gasped and Dean closed the door behind him, looking at you with a confused expression. “What’s wrong, baby?” he sounded worried and you threw the blanket that had been covering your midsection off of you, looking down at your soiled--and now uncomfortably wet--sweatpants. 

It hit you, then. The pains you had been feeling in your lower stomach hadn’t been another early scare of braxton hicks contractions. They had been the real deal and you had flat out ignored them--even if they were painful enough to have doubled you over every couple of minutes in the grocery store. Since you had gotten in the car, they had gotten exceptionally stronger and you struggled not to let Dean see you grip your stomach and bare your teeth. You hadn’t wanted him to worry. “I think my water just broke,” you stuttered out and you didn’t know if it was because of the cold or the dread that filled you from head-to-toe at your own words. 

He stared at you blankly for a long moment and you knew if you had been told the information, you would have blanked for a moment, too. “She’s not supposed to be here for another three weeks,” he spoke in one breath and your heart thudded a few times before righting itself again. His eyes scanned your face, attempting to process what you were saying.

“She decided to be a Christmas baby,” you laughed nervously, trying to lighten the tense mood that took over the impala. Dean’s eyes brightened up and he moved closer to your body. You could tell that the panic would set in for him after he sorted through his other emotions.

“Oh baby,” he breathed and you could hear the delirious excitement in his voice. “I’m about to be a daddy,” and then, dread, “We’re stuck out here and I’m about to be a daddy--”

You cut him off, “Dean. We’ve gone to the birthing classes, we’ve talked about home birth. We’ve been through the entire process before--” a contraction, sharper than the ones at the store, cut you off mid sentence. It was within a minute of the last pain you had felt. You gritted your teeth and grabbed the seat in front of you until your knuckles turned white from the strain. “We--” you let out a pained shriek through your teeth, “will get through this, Dean,” you huffed out, panting as soon as the pain ebbed away.

Another contraction hit you just two short minutes later and you screamed through your gritted teeth, trying your best not to push, “Alright, uhh--Breathe, baby, breathe,” you listened to Dean’s voice and as you breathed along with him, your contraction ebbed again and passed.

Hours passed in this fashion and you had shucked off your wet sweatpants and panties, the heat of your labor keeping you hot and causing a sheen of sweat to cross your body. You had even made Dean open the door on one harrowing occasion where you felt as if the heat of your labor was going to suffocate you. You had been pushing for over an hour with Dean staring down at your cunt the entire time, watching for any sign of your daughter’s head to begin her award winning exit from your tired body. “Come on, baby, push,” Dean encouraged and you wanted to throw something at him. He could obviously see you trying, “Come on--” Your shriek cut him off as you pushed as hard as you possibly could, wanting the pain of the contractions to end. 

“I see her head, baby,” he whispered, amazed at the sight. You knew he couldn’t wait to hold her. He had already gotten the bourbon that was stashed under the seat out to clean off a knife so he could cut the umbilical cord for you. 

Just as another contraction crashed into you, Dean’s hands reached down to support something between your thighs and you saw the stars in his eyes as he watched. You screamed again, pushing as hard as you could. “Her head’s out, baby, just the shoulders now, you’re doing so good.” You pushed again, feeling as the shoulders of your little one made its way out of your stretched and tired hole. You felt Dean grab hold and the rest of your little ones body moved out. You picked your head up, unaware of anything except the lack of screaming coming from your baby.

“Dean--” you started and the car erupted in cries. Your body dropped back into the seat of the impala and sobs took over you. 

“Y/N… She’s beautiful,” and you had assumed Dean had cut the cord. You knew the contractions weren’t over yet, but knowing your little one was free gave you the courage to push through the last of them. 

“Can I hold her?” you asked between sobs and Dean grabbed the jacket he had taken off in the hours prior and wrapped her up in the warmth before handing her to you. 

“What do you want to name her, baby?” You reached for her, supporting her in all the ways you had been taught in the multitude of classes Sam had insisted that you take. You stared down at her beautiful little face. She had a small tuft of dark brown hair and her eyes were sealed shut. She had quieted down in Dean’s arms and you sniveled over top of her. 

“Charlene JoAnne Winchester,” you breathed, thinking of your fallen friends as you looked upon her angelic face and you heard Dean’s breath catch in his throat. You looked up at him, “Is that okay?” 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he reached for you. You had never seen him so soft and you had especially hadn’t seen him cry in a manner like this in a long time. “Our little Charlie…” you nodded, with tears in your eyes. 

Dean glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It was already one in the morning and you hadn’t even noticed. Your labor had been long and intense. “Merry Christmas, baby,” Dean lifted his head to look at the front window and your eyes followed his, seeing that the snow had stopped and had begun to slowly melt away. 

“How about we get you two home and cleaned up?” Dean questioned and you nodded vigorously before Dean climbed over the seat and started up the car, sending a quiet and breathless prayer that it would work this time. And, for the love of God, it did.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I don't know anything about pregnancy, I just got 'birth' as a prompt and wanted to do something Christmas-y around it. So here it is. Stuck in a snowstorm with your favorite pair, Dean and You. If you liked it, drop a kudos. This is going to be part of an ongoing 100 day prompt challenge where I will try* to post everyday. Anyway, thanks for reading! 
> 
> *Probably will not succeed, do not hold me to any standards, I am a sad sometimes.


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